Chapter Text
Electric guitar plays out of the old truck’s speakers. The notes float out of the cab’s windows, carried by the cool sea breeze, filling the small clearing and joining the rustle of trees. The sun dips low as it approaches the horizon casting the clifftop in an orange glow.
Chloe blows a cloud of steam as she releases a lungful of water vapor, feeling the synthetic THC dull her senses almost immediately. She looks up from where she lies in the bed of her dad’s truck, watching the sun descend, and hands the vape pen to the brunette next to her.
“I love this time of day,” Max comments as she releases her own lungful of vapor and sets the pen down beside her. “The lighting is perfect for taking photos. Not too harsh, and everything has a nice, almost ethereal quality to it.”
Chloe chuckles a little beside her. “Okay, photo-nerd. Can’t you just save a shot with your optics sensor anytime and then recreate the effect with a simple filter? Then you don’t have to spend all day waiting for the right time and maybe something else messes up your shot.”
“You can,” Max admits. “But it won’t have the same soul as taking it with a real camera and natural lighting.” The brunette sits up slightly, holding herself up with her elbows as she turns toward Chloe. “True art’s almost lost all meaning. These days anyone can take a ‘masterpiece’ with a simple blink of an eye. And you can recreate almost any shot with just a few auto-filters. Mass-produced AI art and forgeries are rampant.”
Max picks up the vape pen and takes another drag, blowing out the vapor with a frustrated sigh. “Photography just isn’t what it was fifty years ago, ever since implants became affordable. They don’t even make cameras like mine anymore.” She glances at the aging contraption by her feet. “No one needs a photographer like me anymore,” she sighs. Chloe turns over on her side, supporting herself on one arm as she reaches out and lightly brushes her fingertips along Max’s arm. “Sorry, I’ll shut up before I become annoying.”
“You know I love listening to you talk about photography,” the blue-haired girl says as she sits up. Max turns her head to meet her eyes with a slight smile. “Even if I don’t understand half of what you’re saying,” she teases, earning a small chuckle from the brunette. “I love that you’re so passionate about something. Not to mention how great you are at it. Seriously Maximus, no one can take photos like you do. Even with all those fancy filters”
A light blush colors Max’s cheeks at the compliment, her freckles standing out in stark contrast in a way that makes Chloe melt. “You’re just trying to sweet talk me.”
“Bullshit… Well… okay maybe a little,” Chloe smirks, getting another little giggle out of the other girl. “But you really are amazingly talented. And not just at photography,” she leans in a little.
Chloe’s breathing picks up a little as her heart starts to race from their closeness. “Oh? And what are my other talents?” Max asks, her eyelids drooping a little as the bluenette slowly leans closer, closing the distance between them.
Chloe can feel hot breath on her lips as she repositions her body, placing a steadying hand on the other side of Max’s waist. “Well, you’re almost as good on the guitar as I am now. Your fingering has greatly improved.”
“Oh? So I’ve got talented fingers?” Max asks, reaching her right hand up to cup the girl’s cheek. “What else?”
“You’ve got a talented tongue too,” Chloe breathes out, her lips ghosting over Max’s and sending a shiver through both of them. “I go crazy when you do that swirling thing.”
“You mean like this?” The brunette parts her lips slightly, running her tongue along Chloe’s lips, seeking entrance. Access is quickly granted as they meet and Chloe melts into the smaller girl as their tongues dance around each other.
Placing a hand on the brunette’s shoulder, Chloe pushes Max back down to the blanket, as a pair of thin arms wraps behind the punk’s neck while they continue to kiss. Sweet moans escape through the occasional gap their moving lips make. It’s several minutes before Chloe has to break away to catch her breath. “Fuck, I love you.” She breathes out as she meets those deep blue eyes she can never get enough of.
“I love you too Chloe,” Max answers, just as breathless. She wastes no time in leaning up to recapture Chloe’s lips, the bluenette’s hands slipping under the Brunette’s shirt, exploring soft skin as she grinds her hips into Max’s thigh. The smaller girl returns the gesture as her hips buck, letting out a small moan.
“Chloe…”
“M-Max.”
“Chloe.”
There’s no answer this time as she starts kissing along Max’s jawline, slowly making her way toward her neck. Chloe hears the brunette’s breath hitch when she reaches the sweet spot just below her ear. She gently slides her exploring hands up the girl’s stomach, taking her shirt with them.
“Chloe! Wake the fuck up!”
The bluenette jolts, practically leaping from her bed as she sits up, blankets falling away. Her heart’s beating like a jackhammer in her chest as her eyes scan the room in confusion, her foggy brain trying to catch back up to reality. Her hand searches the empty mattress next to her and her breathing begins to calm as her senses return.
After a moment, Chloe recognizes her bedroom in her shared apartment. The queen-sized bed sits in one corner, taking up almost half the available space in the small room. The window above her bed fills the room with light from the late morning sun. The wall across from her is home to a simple, low dresser with a large screen built into the wall above. To her immediate right is a door that leads into her en suite, with a closet running the length of the adjacent wall. Aside from some scribbled graffiti and a few posters featuring scantily clad women, there’s little in terms of personal touches.
“Shit Chloe, how much synthehol did you drink last night?”
Chloe’s eyes shift toward the source of the voice in the room and land on her roommate. Long blonde hair tied back in a stylish ponytail, hazel eyes, and a blue feather earring hanging from her left ear. Rachel always had a knack for fashion, having spent a short time as a model before becoming disillusioned with the industry, and is wearing a black pair of skinny jeans, a plain white T-shirt, a black combat jacket, and tall combat boots. It’s a simple outfit that Chloe can’t help but think would look completely unremarkable on anyone else, yet somehow Rachel makes it like she’s ready for the runway.
“Enough?” Chloe groans past her cotton mouth, running a hand down her face. Her head feels heavy and there’s a hint of the headache to come. She leans towards her nightstand, pushing aside empty beer bottles to get to a bottle of water. She chugs greedily, her dry throat soaking up the water like a sponge.
“Clearly,” the blonde comments with a smirk. “Looks like I interrupted a pretty good dream.” Pulling the bottle away from her lips, Chloe eyes the girl with a confused look. “You were moaning and mumbling in your sleep when I opened the door. And I think you’re gonna need a fresh pair of underwear and some clean sheets.”
Glancing down at herself, Chloe notices her panties are pulled part way down and have a prominent wet spot. Her cheeks burn red as she groans, pulling the blanket over herself and earning a cackle from the blonde. “You’ll have to tell me all about your dream girl later. Get dressed, we’ve got a job.”
“Fuck you, Rach,” Chloe answers back, sticking her middle finger up out of the blanket. Rachel’s laughter is only cut off when the door shuts behind her.
The bluenette flops back down on her bed and stares up at the cracked concrete ceiling. Despite the steadily growing pounding in her head, she can clearly see Max’s face, or at least how she appeared in her dream. In truth, she can barely remember what her former best friend looked like without referencing a photo. And those she keeps hidden away at the bottom of her closet. Hidden, but not forgotten. How many years has it been? Her fingertips lightly touch her lips and for a second, she can almost taste Max’s lips. She closes her eyes in an attempt to preserve the fading image but it quickly slips away. Why now?
After a few more minutes, Chloe reluctantly sits up before getting out of bed. She walks into her en suite, making a beeline for the shower and its promise of hot water as she strips down.
“So, you gonna tell me about it?” Rachel asks from the driver seat of her old Alpha-Mercedes as the car steers itself towards its destination. Seattle skyscrapers and mega blocks stream past them as they travel along the lower highway. With only the occasional glimpse of the sky, artificial sun lamps provide most of the light for the undercity. Trash lines the streets and the constant humidity and lack of a breeze does little to help the odor that lingers.
“About what?” Chloe asks without bothering to turn from her window gazing in the passenger seat.
“About your dream girl, duh. It takes a lot to get Chloe Price that wet. I should know after all,” Rachel teases. Chloe turns her head just enough to glare at the other girl before looking back out the window. “C’mon, spill the deets. Was it Jennifer again?”
“No.”
“Makoto? Elise? Haley?”
“No.”
“The girl from the Firewalk Concert, um… Ayo… Aya…?”
“Ayanako… No.”
“The twins?” The car goes silent for a moment as Rachel thinks. “Me?”
Chloe sighs and looks back over at her friend. “It was someone from my past… Someone I haven’t thought about in a long time.”
Rachel gives her a confused look as she appears lost in thought. Chloe can practically see the gears turning in her friend’s head as she’s likely running through a list of all the girls she’s known Chloe to date. Rachel’s eyes go wide when it finally hits her. “That girl you grew up with? The one that disappeared?”
The bluenette does her best not to let her emotions show before she turns away again. “Max.”
The name hangs heavily in the air between them. Chloe’s told Rachel some of her stories about growing up, mostly when the pair first met several years ago and they had too much to drink. It’s rare for her to be so open, even with the blonde after all they’ve been through. “You’ve never shown me a picture of her. What did she look like?”
Chloe tries to recall the aged-up image of her former best friend from her dream before answering. “Short and scrawny. Mousy brown hair eternally tied up in a ponytail until I finally talked her into cutting it short.” She starts to get lost in her old memories as she describes the girl. “Big doe-like eyes, blue and deep as the ocean. Freckles all over…”
“Sounds like she was quite the cutie. Did you two ever...?”
“No… never.” Her chest tightens when she thinks back to those last summer days six years ago. “She dropped off the face of the Earth before I ever worked up the courage to tell her how I felt.”
“So… she was your first love then?”
Chloe doesn’t answer at first, instead focusing her attention on a defect in the car door’s armrest. With a huff, she looks straight ahead. “Something like that.”
*Ding* “Arriving at your destination in two minutes.” A simulated voice says through the car’s speakers.
“Better put your battle face on,” Rachel warns. Chloe reaches under her leather jacket with her prosthetic right arm, pulling out her .45. As soon as she wraps her fingers around the grip of her pistol, a small indicator light just above the trigger changes from red to yellow, indicating the gun’s ready with safety on. Holding it up as she looks down at the sights, she makes a few quick movements, her eye implant tracking and relaying the input to her arm, assisting her aim. For most people, the weapon would be a bit unwieldy – too heavy, and too much kickback to be effective for all but the best marksmen. With the help of her cybernetic prosthetics, however, Chloe’s able to use it to devastating effect.
“Hey, no killing. Vito wants his money, so we’re just supposed to rough him up if he doesn’t fork it over.”
“Nothing wrong with being prepared, right?” The bluenette asks as she holsters her gun. “I’ll make sure to aim for his leg,” she adds while grinning as the blonde rolls her eyes.
*Ding* “Arriving at your destination, have a nice day Mrs. Bitchpants Mcgee.”
Rachel glances over at a snickering Chloe with an angry glare. “Goddamnit Chlo. Stop fucking with my car’s settings.” The punk begins cackling loudly when the blonde smacks her arm.
“C’mon, Rach. You gotta admit that was a good one.” The other girl glares at her one more time before pushing her door open and stepping out once the car comes to a stop. Chloe joins her and the two approach the dive bar together.
Chloe’s heavy boots splash in a puddle of questionable liquid as they pass garbage bins overflowing with trash before rounding the corner. The front of the building is no different, with concrete walls caked in an inch of grime and graffiti. Bright neon reflects in the puddles on the ground with the bar's name as they reach the door.
“Wake up, Jared,” Rachel shouts in greeting to the bouncer sitting on a stool and leaning precariously against the doorway.
“Shit,” the bouncer, a mountain of muscle, mutters as he’s rudely awoken from his nap. “Oh, welcome back Ms. Amber,” he greets with a smile once he realizes who she is and stands up before noticing the other woman. “Gun,” he states flatly with a severe face, eyeing Chloe.
“We’re just here to talk to your boss,” the bluenette assures him.
“That’s what you said last time, Price. Then you shot his leg.”
“It’s a prosthetic,” Chloe argues, not wanting to relinquish her weapon.
“And you shot it. Mr. Clark isn’t risking a repeat.”
“He wasn’t even wearing the leg when I shot it,” Chloe pleads futilely.
“Gun,” Jared says firmly, putting an end to any further arguing.
Chloe glares at the outstretched hand, before scoffing and pulling said weapon out of its holster. For good measure, she presses the magazine release and pockets the ammo before handing the gun over. “Take care of my baby.” The bouncer smiles, clearly pleased with himself, and steps back, setting the gun in a lock box on a table next to the door.
The girls enter the empty bar and make their way towards the back. Rachel gives the bartender a wink as they pass, heading for a pair of double doors. Pushing their way through into a short hall, they walk to a heavy metal door at the end. Rachel tests the handle, finds the door unlocked, and throws it open wide before both women file into the office.
A middle-aged man with a sloppy goatee behind a large desk glances up from the computer screen at the unexpected visit. “Ah, fuck,” He cries as he pushes himself back and tries to stand. The girls are quicker though as they circle around the desk, standing on either side. Chloe pushes him back into his chair, leaving her right arm on his shoulder and holding him firmly in place.
“How’s the leg, Tom?” Chloe asks jokingly.
“Fuck you Price.” He spits back.
“Sorry, you’re not my type.”
“I assume you know who we’re representing?” Rachel asks, moving the conversation along.
“Vito, right? I got nothing for him. He said I had four weeks to pay.”
“That was five weeks ago Tom,” Rachel counters.
“You’re lucky you were given an extra week,” Chloe cuts in, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Y’know Vito isn’t usually so forgiving.”
“Forty thousand Dollars. D’you got it?” Rachel asks.
“No, of course not,” he barks back, looking between the two.
“Wrong answer,” Chloe sighs before gripping the back of his head and slamming it into the table. Tom yelps and curses as his nose and forehead hit the hardwood before pulling back with blood dripping from each nostril as Chloe returns her grip to his shoulder.
“How about now?”
“I swear I’ve got nothing for him,” he yells as his hand reaches up to cover his nose.
Chloe releases his shoulder and steps back, turning around for a moment. She places her hands on the edge of a small table, gripping it tight as she takes a steadying breath. “I hate these shitty shake-down jobs.” She groans impatiently before turning back around. “Rach, gun.” The blonde nods, pulling a 9mm out of her jacket and tossing it to her partner. The indicator flashes from red to yellow before green as the bluenette flicks the safety off and presses it against the side of Tom’s head.
“I wouldn’t make her ask again,” Rachel smiles, “You know, that prosthetic of hers has a hair trigger.” Chloe bumps the guy’s temple with the gun to punctuate her point.
“Okay. Okay!”
“Okay, what?” Chloe asks.
“Okay, I don’t have all of it.” The bluenette bumps his temple with the barrel of the gun again. “I can send Vito twenty-three Gs right now,” Tom blurts hurriedly. “I’ll have the rest before the end of the month, plus ten percent.”
Chloe holds the gun to his temple, glancing over at her partner. Rachel nods and Chloe flips the safety back on. “Transfer it now. Follow through on your promise and we won’t be back.”
“I will. I swear. I’m transferring it now,” he pleads.
“Good, We’ll be calling Vito in a minute to confirm. Make sure we don’t have to come back in, You know how much Chloe hates repeating herself,” Rachel warns, catching her gun as Chloe tosses it back and holstering it.
“Have a great day,” the punk says cheerfully as the girls turn to leave.
They quickly walk back down the hall and into the dingy bar area as they head for the door. The bouncer is in the middle of a call as they reach the entrance. “Sorry boss, you just said to make sure Chloe isn’t armed if she comes back, you didn’t say anything about Ms. Amber… I didn’t know they were here for-” Jared stops himself as Chloe and Rachel walk past, holding out the bluenette’s gun. “Have a great day Ms. Amber.”
“Thanks, Jared, say hi to your wife and kids for me.” Rachel smiles back pleasantly before rounding the corner of the alleyway where they parked.
A ringing sounds in Chloe’s ears as she gets into the passenger seat, accompanied by a visual alert only she can see. “Vito,” she greets as she answers the call. “I’m guessing you’re calling because you just received a deposit from Tom?”
“I did indeed Ms. Price. Twenty-three thousand to be exact.”
“Our mutual friend passes along his apologies for being late on his payment. He promises to have the rest by the end of the month, plus ten percent.”
“Mr. Clark always pays eventually, he just needs a little ‘reminder’ from time to time. I’m transferring a thousand each to you and your partner. You’ll get the rest when our friend pays in full, as agreed.”
“Of course.”
“‘Till then, Ms. Price.” Vito finishes, ending the call. No sooner than he’s hung up does a deposit receipt pop up in Chloe’s vision, like a projection no one else can see thanks to her cybernetic eye.
“Looks like we get to eat this week,” Rachel comments.
Chloe opens her mouth to respond when a video message pops up. “Damnit,” she curses as she sees the sender’s name.
“What?”
“Prescott’s little shit just sent me a message. ‘The fuck’s he want now?”
She only has to think about it for the video message to play, a transparent image of Nathan Prescott sitting behind a desk takes up half her field of view as he speaks. “Price. Got an urgent request for you and your partner. Come by my office later for the details. And don’t fucking ignore me this time or my father will know.”
With just a thought, she deletes the message and sags into her seat, groaning.
“Is it another job?” Rachel asks from the other seat.
Chloe shakes her head. “Most likely. He didn’t say much.”
“When are we meeting him?”
“Later. I’ll go alone. No need for both of us to deal with that insufferable little shit. Let’s go to Steph’s, my arm’s tracking felt a bit sluggish back there.”
The blonde can’t help but smirk. “You read my mind,” she says before tapping the navigation button on the steering wheel. “Steph’s shop.”
*Ding* “Driving to: Steph’s shop. Enjoy your ride, Mrs. Bitchpants McGee.”
Chloe cackles in her seat as Rachel glares at her. “I’m hella getting you back,” she warns.
A small bell jingles as Chloe pushes the shop’s door open. The lobby is small but immaculately clean and smells faintly of disinfectant. Several screens take up the wall next to the reception desk and across from a group of chairs; advertisements for different prosthetics play on the screens. A small holographic projector on the desk displays similar products.
“One second!” A voice calls from the back.
Without waiting, the two girls walk past the desk and down a short hall turning into the first room on the left. A young woman around their age is hunched over a table working on a prosthetic leg. Shoulder-length brown hair is pulled back and tied in place and she’s wearing a long white lab coat. Without turning around, she addresses the girls. “Sorry, do you mind waiting up front? I’m nearly finished with this and I’ll be there in a minute.”
“You know I don’t like to be kept waiting, Steph,” Rachel states with a smirk, hopping up on a counter behind the girl.
The brunette immediately pauses her work to smile, though she doesn’t turn around. “Don’t I know it, babe? What’s up, Chloe?” She asks as she resumes working.
“Another day, another dirty deed to pay the rent. Need you to take a look at my arm when you’ve got a chance. It felt a little sluggish earlier.”
“Let me guess, you punched another guard bot?” Steph asks as she places her tool down and starts to close up the leg.
“One. Time. That was one time,” Chloe quickly tries to defend herself. “And I totally broke that stupid tin can’s circuit board. Just ask Rach – it was hella badass.”
“I was just glad you at least had the presence of mind not to use your left arm, or we wouldn’t have made it out of there,” Rachel comments. “Though why you didn’t just shoot it is still beyond me.”
“Anyone can shoot a robot, who else can say they disabled one in a single punch?” Chloe argues.
“Only after you ripped its chest panel off. Again, a few shots with your .45’s armor-piercing rounds and it wouldn’t have been able to graze your shoulder with a bullet, let alone the couple it landed in your body armor.” Rachel argues right back.
“You complained about your bruised boob for a week after that,” Steph joins in before doing her best impression of the bluenette. “‘How am I supposed to get laid looking like Frankentits?’ Maybe don’t try to take on an armed robot with your bare hands?”
With a huff, Chloe leans back against the counter next to her partner and crosses her arms as she pouts. “It was still pretty badass,” she mutters.
With a satisfied sigh, Steph finishes her work and pushes herself back from the table she’d been leaning over, stretching her back. “Tired babe?” Rachel asks, as the mechanic turns and walks towards her.
“Spent most of my day, replacing the wiring and circuitry in that damn leg. My back’s stiff,” the brunette answers as she places her hands on the blonde’s waist.
“Promise I’ll give you a massage tonight.”
“I think I’d love that.” Steph leans up on her tiptoes, meeting the blonde halfway for a passionate kiss.
“God, get a room, you two.” Chloe fakes offense.
“This is my shop,” Steph counters, “So technically, this could be our room.”
Rachel chuckles. “You know, I have thought about you sitting in that examination chair while going down on you.”
“Now that’s a great idea,” Steph chuckles before she kisses her girlfriend again.
“Okay, before you two start tearing each other’s clothes off, can you at least take a look at my arm?” Chloe interrupts.
Steph leans up and gives the blonde a quick peck on the lips. “Maybe later,” she stage whispers, earning a groan from their friend before stepping away. “Alright, hop in the chair, Chloe.”
The punk does as she’s told, pushing herself off the counter and taking her jacket off before walking over to what's essentially a dental chair and laying back. Steph rolls a stool over to her right side and maneuvers a tray into place for Chloe to rest her arm on. The part surgeon – part mechanic takes a second to look over her arm. A strategically designed tattoo featuring thorny vines, hibiscus flowers, a skull, and red ribbons covers most of the seams running up and down the cybernetic arm. If it wasn’t for the seems, it would be indistinguishable from her intact left arm. Even the false skin is warm to the touch.
“Well, there doesn’t appear to be any external damage,” Steph notes as she gently turns the arm over, scanning every inch. “Lemme run a quick diagnostic and see if we can’t pinpoint what’s going on. Gimme your dongle.”
“Heh, you said dongle,” Chloe giggles as she accesses her mental controls to open a small port on the inside of her wrist. A small cable pops up which Steph pulls out, plugging it into a port on the tray, instantly lighting up the transparent screen with data readouts.
“Such a gentlewoman,” Steph says sarcastically as she reads over the information on the screen. “Looks like your response time is down almost a tenth of a second. It’s not much but it’s enough you’d probably notice.”
“My wrist felt good but moving my forearm felt a bit laggy.”
“Could be a servo in the elbow joint.” Steph scrolls through the readout for a few seconds. “Bingo. The lateral servo is experiencing resistance. It may be degraded, let’s pop the cover and see how bad it is.”
Steph grabs a metal cylindrical tool similar to a dentist’s drill. With a couple of taps on the screen, Chloe’s arm goes slack, and a couple of seams on the inside separate to reveal the inner workings. Chloe winces at the sudden loss of sensation and feedback from the limb. It’s as if her arm is suddenly no longer there. “I’ll never get used to that. Feels like waking up after that accident all over again with my arm missing.”
“Sorry,” Steph says sympathetically, knowing the story behind the punk’s cybernetic enhancements, as she removes several components. Rachel walks over and places a comforting hand on the bluenette’s left shoulder. “I know you’d rather have your real arm. But this is truly top-of-the-line tech you’ve got. Despite being a couple of generations old now, you’d be hard-pressed to find better. Even ex-military would be lucky to have this model.”
Chloe nods her head with a heavy sigh. “I know. And I’ve had almost five years to get used to it.”
Silence hangs over the room, heavy and suffocating for several moments as Steph works. “Here we go… Looks like a bearing is out of alignment. It’s only by a millimeter, but that’s what’s causing the lag. I can push it back into place for now, but eventually, it’ll need to be replaced along with the entire elbow joint.”
“How long will that take?”
“A few hours to break down and rebuild the joint, a couple more to recalibrate it properly. You’ll pretty much be out of commission for a day. I don’t have all the parts I need in stock though, so I’ll have to order them. And since they need to be custom-made, it’ll take some time.”
“How long?” Chloe asks.
“A few weeks maybe?” Steph guesses. “It’s not like you can pop into any retailer and pick up a prosthetic like yours, even well-funded PMCs have trouble getting their hands on them. You… could always go to your benefactors about it.”
“Fuck that, I’m in enough dept to those assholes.”
“Fair enough,” Steph replies.
“And in the meantime?” Rachel asks.
“Well, I wouldn’t go punching any robots. This should eliminate the lag for now, but the joint is already starting to deteriorate. You won’t notice it right away, but your performance will start to drop over time. If left completely alone it’ll eventually fail and be unusable” Steph finishes, closing the arm up.
“And what happens if I do decide to punch some robo-nuts?” The punk inquires.
The brunette raises an eyebrow, trying to hide her amusement. “Worst case? The joint could seize up and you lose the use of your arm. If you still had your fail-safes and limiters in place, it would have already shut down to prevent further damage.”
“Gotcha, I’ll stick to punching organic dicks then.”
“Why do you have to punch any dicks?” Steph winces.
“Don’t get her started babe.” Rachel cuts in, stopping Chloe’s words dead in her throat.
“Anyways, since I’ve got you hooked up, let me run a diagnostic on the rest of your systems.”
Chloe sighs and lays her head back, closing her eyes. “Sure, go ahead and poke around in my most intimate places,” she says sarcastically.
“Don’t worry, I won’t go through your stored memories,” Steph assures her. “Knowing you, that’d be like walking through a minefield of depravity.”
The display on the table once again lights up as a string of information streams in from Chloe’s cybernetics. Rachel plops down on another stool across the room as Steph reads through the data. All is quiet for several minutes.
“Chloe, have you been smoking again?” The doctor frowns at her.
The bluenette waves her off. “Pfft, like I can afford real cigarettes. Just my vape.”
“You do know that synth-lung of yours filters out any nicotine or thc right?”
“Yeah, but if I inhale enough, some of it is bound to find its way past the filters and into my organic lung.”
Steph groans at the comment as her hand reaches up to cover her face. “That’s not how… Those filters are military-grade. You could survive a gas chamber without a single cough. It doesn’t matter how much you vape, it’ll never get into your system.”
“Tell me about it,” the punk complains.
“Chloe, those filters are meant for emergencies only. They might last a lifetime if you don’t abuse them, but they won’t last forever if you do. It’s not like working on your arm. I can’t replace those unless you want me to open up your chest and be out of commission for several months. I suggest you give it up.”
“Sure thing Mom.” Chloe waves her off.
“Rach-”
“On it babe,” the blonde cuts in, knowing what her girlfriend is going to ask. “I tossed her stash while she was having a wet dream this morning.”
“Not all of-” Chloe tries to counter before Rachel beats her to it.
“And yes, even the vape you keep in your glowy bear.” The blonde mentions as she walks over, placing her hands on the brunette’s shoulders, gently massaging them.
Steph giggles at the mention of the childish nightlight. “Well, I got rid of the one she keeps on her bike.”
“Bitches,” Chloe mutters, trying to flip them a bird each but only her left arm responds to the command.
“Our daughter is such a handful,” Rachel jokes.
“She’s grown up so fast,” Steph adds, pretending to wipe a tear away.
“I hate you both,” Chloe grumbles, the other girls giggling at their friend.
“Well, it looks like everything checks out. Stop smoking and you won’t have any issues with that lung. Your right eye looks good as well. I updated your neural implant’s firewall while I was at it, just stay away from those virtual porn sites, never know what kind of bug you might catch.”
“How else am I supposed to get myself off?”
“Max didn’t seem to have any problems,” Rachel teases.
“Max?” Steph questions curiously.
“Her dream girl.”
“Amber,” Chloe warns.
The blonde in question leans down, stage whispering to her girlfriend. “Childhood crush, she was hella soaked when I dragged her ass out of bed this morning.”
“Fuck. You,” the bluenette growls
“You could use a steady relationship instead of endless flings and one-night stands, Chloe,” Steph interjects.
“Not interested.”
Steph ignores the remark. “Do you still talk to this girl?”
“No.” Her voice is harsh and low when she answers. “She went on a trip with her Father six years ago and dropped off the face of the earth. All her family’s stuff disappeared from their home in Arcadia Bay a week later and I haven’t been able to contact or track them down since.”
“Do you think she’s…” Steph starts, not wanting to say the words.
“No clue,” Chloe deadpans.
“Surely they would have said something if she was hurt,” Rachel offers.
“What would you do if you suddenly bumped into her?” Steph asks curiously.
For a moment, Chloe can’t help but consider the idea. Emotions swirl within her, a mixture of pain, betrayal, and longing for lost possibilities. Feelings she’s spent the past six years trying to bury deep. “Honestly? ...I don’t know. Hug her, yell at her, hit her? Not like I’ll ever meet her again anyways.”
“Didn’t you say her dad worked for Prescorp?” Rachel asks, trying to remember what she’s been told about the girl. “She could be in the city.”
“There are almost twenty million people living in Seattle. It may not be the most populated city but it’s damn near impossible to locate someone that doesn’t want to be found,” Chloe points out.
“You’ve never bumped into her father at Prescop’s Headquarters?” Steph asks.
“No, it’s a huge building and they have multiple sites throughout the city. Plus I try to keep my distance from those assholes. ‘Cept when they have a job for me.”
“How much do you still owe for the hardware they paid for?”
“Six million and change. And they keep adding interest.”
Steph whistles at the sum. “There’s no way all that tech cost even half that much.”
“It’s enough to keep me in their dept ‘till the day I die or am no longer of use,” Chloe comments grimly. “Speaking of Preshit, I’ve got a meeting to get to. Is my bike ready?”
“Yeah, it should be done charging now,” Steph says as she hits a few buttons on her screen and reactivates Chloe’s arm.
“Fuck!” The punk grunts as suddenly all sensation in her arm returns. “It always tingles afterward.”
Steph stands and walks over to a counter near the door, grabbing a memory chip. “The new springs might be a little stiffer than you’re used to, and the brakes may feel harder until they get up to temperature a few times, so try to take it easy. And I updated the Bios so you’ll need to recode it to your biometric data,” She finishes as she hands Chloe the chip.
“What would I do without you Steph?” The punk smirks as she jumps up from the chair.
“Aside from recklessly destroying your body?”
“Quit hitting on my girl,” Rachel teases, wrapping an arm around the brunette’s waist possessively.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Chloe comments before wincing when their earlier conversation comes to mind, causing the other girls to laugh. Without another word, she leaves the room, heading to the small receiving room at the back of the building.
Pushing open the door, she immediately spots her bike in the corner, next to a roll-up door. Her eyes sparkle as she takes in the black machine with hair-matching blue accents and its aggressive racing design. Walking over, she unplugs it from a wall charger and swings her leg over the side. Inserting the memory chip, the bike’s main display beneath the handlebars lights up.
“Place hands on the handlebars to register the user.” A smooth and sultry voice with a British accent commands through the bike’s speaker. Chloe wastes no time in obeying. “Registering new user… User registered: Chloe Elizabeth Price. Adjust settings on the main screen to meet your preferences.” After spending a minute making changes to things like her nickname, shock stiffness, throttle response, and ride height, Chloe hits accept. “Applying settings.” The bike dips half an inch beneath her. “Settings applied. Ride safely Sexy Momma.”
“Always, baby,” Chloe replies before pulling her helmet on, reaching out, and hitting the open button on the wall for the roll-up door. She barely waits for the door to fully open before gunning the throttle and driving down the ramp with a bit of tire squeal. Making a sharp turn at the end into the alleyway, she heads for the main road.
A grin threatens to split her face as she speeds around the corner, leaning heavily into the turn before cutting into traffic. She weaves in between cars at breakneck speeds, heading west towards the shoreline. With a thought, an audio player displays in the corner of her eye as a woman’s voice sounds in her ear.
“...reports that construction is complete and the final tests are being run. If all goes to plan, then the orbital elevator is expected to go into service later this year, with it opening to the public sometime next summer. Sean Prescott the fifth had this to say about this momentous occasion…”
Chloe grits her teeth and quickly changes the stream, selecting one of her favorite bands as electric guitars and heavy bass floods her ears.
Eventually, the concrete jungle gives way as she merges onto Interstate 5. As she heads north, all the skyscrapers and mega buildings form an oppressive wall of concrete and steel, while to her left, the world opens up to the vast bay of New Seattle. The skeletons of the old city jut out of the water like a half-submerged animal carcass that’s slowly decaying. She breathes deeply of the salty air as the setting sun warms her skin beneath her leather jacket. A memory pops into her head, unbidden. A similar sunset atop a cliff in the back of her dad’s pickup when she was sixteen. A nervous energy runs through her yet it somehow brings her peace. It feels like home.
“I love this time of day,” A voice she hasn’t heard in years echoes through her mind. “The lighting is perfect for taking photos. Not too harsh, and everything has a nice, almost ethereal quality to it.”
“The golden hour,” Chloe mutters to herself before squeezing her eyes shut, willing the memory away. “Why now?” Opening her eyes, she twists the throttle, the bike surging forward with a high-pitched electronic whine, hoping the adrenaline rush will clear her mind.
A false sun shines down, providing light for the room as a slightly opaque hologram covers the ceiling and walls with an AI-generated scene from some imaginary tropical beach. A young woman with brown hair floats on her back in the middle of the pool, losing herself in memories from a better time in her life.
She hates looking at the hologram. It might seem pleasing to the average person compared to a plain white wall. To her though, the fake imagery is almost insulting. She can see all the flaws no one else can. It might be a scene intended to encourage a wistful or relaxing emotion. However, it only causes the brunette disgust.
“If that’s all you have to give today, then I guess we can end the session a little early,” A voice says over the intercom.
“Okay,” is all the woman says.
Still, the scene is enough to remind her of a better time when she was younger, more carefree. And of a certain girl with strawberry blonde hair and eyes as blue as the real sky.